


Sanctuary

by arekeytaketour, ry0kiku



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Fallout 4
Genre: Batboys as Vaulties 75, Crossover, Fallout4/DCU crossover, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-06-06 18:27:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6765013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arekeytaketour/pseuds/arekeytaketour, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ry0kiku/pseuds/ry0kiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scorched wasteland, irradiated earth, foul mindless mutated creatures, wicked technology unlike anything he remembered. And here Nate thought this hellhole cannot surprise him anymore. Until he met those battle-hardened junior soldiers staring up at him, innocently smiling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Fallout 4 and Batman belong to Bethesda Softwork and DC Comic respectively. This work is purely for entertainment and we do not accepted any profits from this work except the joy of watching our favorite characters suffer #eh

For once, Nate thought that his life was perfect: the perfect wife, a cute son, and a job that could keep the household running. Although this particular job needed him to constantly travel away from his family. But he tried to manage it, for the better future and safety of his family.

As a skillful sniper, Nate always kept himself hidden from the enemy’s sight. He softened his steps and tip-toed away from the enemy’s sight. He even preferred to walk on foot with heavy armor instead of the overpowered T-60 power armor. The war to regain Anchorage was getting worse and Nate’s fellow soldiers told him to get used to the heavy suit. For safety, they said. But, as stubborn as he was, Nate never took his friends’ advice.

Until that day came.

Nate was lying under the rubble when that fire happened. He was scouting enemies, three floors below. He didn’t see when the missile was shot, but the ring in his bleeding ears and intense pain to his left had made a very clear clue of his injuries. Nate quickly scrambled to his feet and ran as the second missile was fired. He walked down the stairs two at a time and rejoined with his squad. He didn’t actually remember what happen next. All he knew was the excessive pain on his head and then nothing.

.

Nate woke up in the hospital with Nora’s worried face as well as a nurse and a doctor hovering above him. They told him that Nate got injured during his last battle and got concussion on his head which made him partially paralyzed for a couple of days. The explosion itself, since it fired closer to where Nate was standing, had made the soldier partially deaf forever.

The news was shocking to Nate and the letter from his commanding officer was not helping either. The letter stated that due to his injuries, Nate had been relieved from his field duty.

Nora accepted the news with joy, saying that Nate now would have enough time for family. She said that Nate could stay at home at took care Shaun while she was attending courts.

 _“It will be okay, honey.”_ She said, _“Everything is going to be okay. You’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. The war will over soon and we can live in peace.”_

Nate should be happy, and besides, Nora was right. Since his time on the field was over, he had more time for his family. But spending most of his time doing nothing had finally taking toll on him. He got jumpy every time he heard an explosion from the news. In the middle of the night, Nate always woke up with cold sweat and gun in his hand. On day, after a week since he got back from the hospital, he almost shot at his neighbor’s mowing machine. It caused quite a commotion in Sanctuary Hills.

Nate missed the field duty. That was the only thing he knew and wished for.

_“You’ll be okay. It takes time to get used to it. You are finally at peace. No more war, no more restless sleep. You’ll be fine, honey.”_

Nate really wished he could be as positive as his wife. But he knew, even though everything looked fine and peaceful, war was lurking in the corner.

Because war… war never changes.

.

**October 23rd, 2077**

Nate remembered when the bomb fell.

It was a warm Saturday morning in Sanctuary Hills. It was one of Nate’s peaceful nights and felt content while waking up the next morning. Nora’s smile that morning was millionth times beautiful than ever. The coffee was no longer awful and dry. Shaun’s soft gurgling now sounded pleasant. The promise of walking around the park later in the evening was a wonderful icing on the cake and Nate couldn’t wait for it. Not even the Vault-Tec guy who kept pestering him for a week could make his morning went badly.

Until the news anchor dropped the shocking report of atomic bombs.

It all happened in a hurry. Nate remembered shouting at Nora as she grabbed Shaun from his crib and met him at the door. After saying goodbyes to Codsworth, he left in a hurry with his family to Vault 111 which he just agreed to be enlisted to.

When the bomb fell, Nate remembered looking back to Nora and Shaun. Despite the circumstance they were in, Nate couldn’t help but smile. He managed to get his family into the vault just in time. As long as his family was safe, everything would be okay.

They went into the vault and followed the vault’s procedure until finally reached the pods room. Nate heard Shaun soft cry as he walked to his designated pod. He approached his wife and touched the infant’s tiny hand. Nora promised that she will be okay with Shaun and told Nate to go in first. She said that they will meet again as soon as possible.

Nate donned his blue vault suit in haste and just like the rest of the vault dwellers, he entered his pod. On the other side, Nora stepped inside her own pod with their baby. As the doors shut down, Nate watched his family slowly frozen to eternity and he himself was soon thrown into a deep sleep.

.

The soothing voice of a woman had woken Nate. He hoped it was his beloved wife, but unfortunately it was only the vault announcer. As Nate slowly got defrosting, he managed to hear other voices, now more muffled than the previous one. A woman voice and another was… a male?

The voices, accompanied with pairs of footsteps, were getting closer to where Nate was asleep. For once, he thought that they were going to his pod but instead, a stranger in a full hazmat suit stopped right in front of Nora’s pod and pointed at it.

They opened up Nora’s pod and Nate was aware of a bald male with a gun amongst the strangers in anti-radiation suits. Between his ragged breath, Nate watched helplessly as one of the stranger took Shaun from Nora’s hands. She refused, of course, and fought feverously. She won’t give Shaun to them as easily as they expected. The bald man too, tried to convince Nora to give up and let Shaun go. It was fruitless and he took the shortest way to resolve their problem.

Nate heard someone scream as the gun was shot. It killed Nora instantly. He soon realized that it was himself who screamed while Nora’s lifeless body fell back to the pod. The stranger now had Shaun who was crying.

Nate tried to get out. He banged his fists as hard on the glass door but it won’t budge. He cursed and threw many insult to the bald man who killed his wife when he sneered at him, but it too won’t let Nate had his revenge. Nate couldn’t do anything as he slowly got frozen once again. All that he did was staring at his wife’s dead body.

.

The second time Nate heard the computerized voice, he was able to get out of his pod. After took a deep breath, Nate quickly ran to Nora’s pod. With shaking hands, he opened the compartment, wishing that somehow she still alive and well with Shaun in her hands. He wished that everything he saw was a bad dream.

Unfortunately, it was not a dream.

Nate cried for an hour in front of Nora’s frozen body. In his palm, there was Nora’s wedding ring as well as his. Both were deathly cold like his wife’s lifeless form and other vault dwellers that died of some vault malfunctions. In sorrow, Nate thought that ending his life would be the best choice, but then he remembered Shaun.

Fueled with a new hope, Nate rose to his feet and walked away from Nora. His shaky feet slowly brought himself to the exit of vault 111. As he strapped the pip boy around his wrist, Nate had made up his mind: he will find Shaun and destroy whoever that had taken his family away from him.

No matter what happened, Nate will have his revenge.

.

.

**Year 2178.**

Names scribbled on the bracelet encircling their right wrists; that was usually the first memory of the children of vault 75. He was no exception to this; he had woken up a confused little boy, staring at his wrist, and softly mouthed "Richard Grayson" as were others that came with him. One thing that set him apart though, probably because he was (quoting the men in white coats) 'an early model', overtime he kept seeing mental images from the time before he woke up as (another quote) 'a living weapon'.

Richard Grayson was a sophomore at Malden Middle School in Boston, the only child of world-famous trapeze artists, John and Mary Grayson. He was still in school practicing gymnastics for the upcoming Olympic games when the sirens blared and minutes later, the school gymnasium was flooded with frightened kids and concerned parents. When enormous gates of vault 75 screeched open, racing against the nuclear bombs, his father had patted his head and his mother caressed his face, whispering.

' _It will be alright, little robin_.'

It was a story from a hundred years ago. He couldn’t be sure whether inheriting the memory of a boy he was cloned from was a good thing, and even more unsure if he should mention it to the rather creepy brownish people in white coats who took care of them. His last question was answered after witnessing a fellow kid getting dragged away for 're-education' for implying the same thing. And found the answer to the first question nearing the end of his ‘training’.

.

The brown people in white barely talked except when barking orders. They gave him task after task, each more impossible than before, with punishments waiting if his results were less than satisfactory. He could tell that he was small for his physical age (Nine? Ten? He once asked the brownies but received nothing but electrical shocks as an answer), but also quicker and infinitely more agile. After clearing the training drones, they pitted him against fellow kids, one kid a day. His first task was deemed a failure for he merely incapacitated his opponent, a slightly taller girl with flowing red hair and beautiful green eyes. The unconscious girl was dragged away to heaven knows where it certainly couldn’t be a playground, while he was taken to another room for ‘debriefing’. More like given a stern direct order to go for the kill next time and punishment for his failure in the form of an injection that left his body spasm and on fire for two days.

The next task was his first kill, and it got both easier and harder after that. With his stealth and skills polished with every killing, his record time was getting smaller and smaller with increasing efficiency. Apparently they were satisfied, for they rarely punished him anymore. Sometimes he wished they would though; his body was punishing himself as he spent hours in bathroom retching in horror and disgust, and even more hours laying awake remembering (another quote) the ‘failures’ faces as the brownies dragged the limp and bloodied bodies away. His days after that were a blur of combats, debriefing, day-long medical testing, and more combats.   

“Grayson,” one of the brown men rasped at him—he swore they’ve gotten even more brown-looking and rotten-smelling if it’s possible—one day after his fiftieth kill when he was laying on his usual medical table, having liquids pumped in and blood pumped out. “You passed. Congratulations. Go back to the dorms and wait for further orders. You will be known as ‘Nightwing’ from now on.”

He nodded obediently, getting up from the table and closed his eyes when his vision swayed—they seemed to take much more blood than they usually did—but quickly regained his balance and silently glided into the dark corridors leading to the dorms. He opened the door, his ruthless killer persona dissipated at the sight of empty beds. He was the only one left. He killed them all except for one, and even then her fate was likely worse than death. Nightwing killed them all. He felt sick, so sick he could no longer retch. He went to the nearest wall and slumped there, hugging his knees, and recounted all their names, including Richard Grayson’s.

Why couldn’t he disobey them until it’s too late? Why wasn’t he strong enough to resist the orders? Why wasn’t he brave enough to give his life in exchange with theirs? Why... Too many whys and too late what-ifs.

Fortunately, he wasn’t left alone for very long. Or maybe it was unfortunate, he grimly thought as the scientists filled the dorms with new children, all of them looked nine or ten years old. They repeated what they did before, only this time with firearms added. Despite no longer required to do it, it invoked nightmare all the same imagining children two or three years younger than him (appearance wise) toting guns and poking holes at each other. They didn't allow him to participate as his specialties were stealth and knives, except to assist in some test-drive sparring sessions.

The bracelet was read as 'Jason Todd', but he hadn't been able to coax it from the kid's mouth himself during the three-hour sparring session. He highly suspected that the men tampered with this new generation's memories and feelings even more than his, and swallowed a sense of guilt and pity. And perhaps a brand new feeling; protective.

This time, he got to watch while this new generation thinned out after the years. Initially he had tried to ignore them for fear of the disapproval from the brown people, but overtime he found himself cradling the smaller boys and girls, wiping their tears and nursing their wounds. The fact that most of them couldn’t talk properly did nothing to dissuade him. He knew that 99% of the children he held now would die out there one day, at the hands of each other, but it didn’t mean they couldn’t be given human touch and warmth. Or maybe it was his excuse because _he_ needed one, brown rotten adults be damned.   

.

Years passed, and he was all alone in the dorms sitting on his bed until a small figure stepped in. The boy looked unchanged except for his white bangs (from stress and trauma, he figured), and dull blue-green eyes. They were clouded with fear, disgust, despair, and similar emotions that tugged at his heartstrings. He remembered twenty years ago when he likely wore the exact same expression; when the killer slipped back into a guilty survivor.

"Welcome back," He greeted, trying his best to sound cheerful. "Jason Todd, right? Congrats for...” _Killing. Not dying_. “...making it out alive."

The boy looked up to him, his eyes flashing something he was still trying to read when the boy launched and landed on his lap. He had frozen, fingers closing on the dagger he had under his bed on pure reflex, until he heard a stifled sob buried in his chest.

His eyes softened as he let go of the dagger and brought his hand to pat the trembling head. He let the kid cried his heart out, calling the names that were no longer there. He closed his eyes and tightened his hug, letting the boy know that he was here, and wouldn’t be going anywhere. They stayed in the position until Jason pulled away slightly, wiping his eyes with his sleeves and looked up at him, unspoken gratefulness in his eyes.

“T... Thank. You…?” The boy managed with some difficulties. Big blue-green eyes looked up at him expectantly, and he understood.

“It’s Richard Grayson.”

"R-Rich?"

"Ri-chard." He repeated, slowly, prompting the boy with hand gestures. The boy blinked at him, eyes scrunched up in concentration.

"Rrrr... R-Rick?"

He almost sighed in exasperation. Almost.

“I’d rather you call me Dick than that…”

“Dick?”

 _Oh well. That'll have to do._ "Attaboy. Dick Grayson, and I'm your..."

His paused for a moment, frowning. What was he to this kid? A friend? Not quite, 'friends' were meant to be disposed. A father? He might be almost thirty, but his physical body was still around thirteen, and that would look incredibly creepy if not impossible biologically. A...

"Your brother, Jaybird." He finished, letting a (slightly mischievous) smile grace his face. Because it's hardly fair if the kid was the only one who gets to give nicknames, right?

.

.

**Year 2287**

After losing contact with Recon Squad Artemis led by Paladin Brandis, it was Danse’s chance to continue the job. He kind of volunteered himself to resume Brandis’s job after he heard about sighting of super mutants’s activity around Commonwealth. Such abominations must be cleared out of earth and no mercy shall be given. That, and his own personal hatred towards super mutants was what drove him to take the task. And thus Recon Squad Gladius was created. Danse was given the best Knights the Brotherhood of Steel could offer and a brave Scribe.

The Paladin heard about the young Scribe Haylen back to days when she was an initiate. Her skill in combat as well as medical knowledge would be beneficial for their mission. Although Danse was quite tentative to put Haylen on his team, he tried to believe that all those days collecting data will not dull Scribe Haylen’s combat skill.

The difficulty of their task was soon confirmed as raiders attacked them. The raiders in Commonwealth were more ferocious that those in Capital Wasteland. The team must retreat to an area named Cambridge and took refuge in an old abandoned police station. The place provided them enough ammunitions and supplies to survive for another days in the Commonwealth.

Since the first attack by the raiders, Recon Squad Gladius had lost one of their power armor. The suit belonged to Knight Keane and it was completely destroyed and disabled, no longer fit for battle. Not even Danse himself could repair the damage on the power armor.

 _“No worries, Paladin.”_ The Knight said with a smile, “ _I can survive the wasteland without that suit. Everything will be fine.”_

How Danse hoped it was true.

.

After fortifying their position, the group found another possible placed to stay with abundant supplies in Corvega assembly plant. Led by Danse, their attempt to call the plant as their own was soon become a nightmare. Another group of raiders had called the plant as their base and they were ambushed. Danse made a hard decision when Knight Brach was killed from a landmine and another, Knight Worwick, was badly wounded.

“ _Sir, if we keep pushing, we can’t survive. Worwick won’t survive!”_

Danse already lost one of his comrades. He won’t let another fall for this futile attempt. For once in his life, Danse had to retreat.

Danse’s effort to save his team was proven to be in vain as Worwick died two days later. Scribe Haylen tried her best to keep Worwick alive, but his wounds were too severe, Danse authorized Haylen to put the knight’s suffering to an end.

 _“An overdose of painkiller will do, Scribe.”_ Danse told Haylen. The disbelieved look on her face almost faltered Danse’s decision. _“His wounds are too severe. Even though he managed to recover, Worwick will forever be paralyzed and unable to survive the wasteland.”_

_“Proctor Ingram survives! She lost both of her feet and still kicking ass!”_

_“We are not in the vicinity of The Citadel, Scribe Haylen. Proctor Ingram was fortunate to have her brothers and sisters on close proximity, not like us. We don’t have such privilege here in Commonwealth.”_

_“Sir, I’m sure I can—“_

_“My decision is final, Scribe Haylen. Either you do it or I will.”_

The young scribe was silent for a while before she finally nodded and walked back to the makeshift medic bay. Danse, decided that he did enough burden to the young scribe, decided to return to his quarters and rest.

.

As they locked up in Cambridge police station, their supply was dwindling. They needed more food and ammunition to survive. Other promising locations, Boston Airport and Fort Strong, were now becoming Danse’s top priority to obtain.

The feral ghouls at the airport proved to be formidable opponents, but Danse and his team managed to pass them unharmed. Their next target was Fort Strong which held a valuable amount of mini nukes. The main chapter sounded thrilled when Haylen informed them of cache of mini nukes in Fort Strong. However, the super mutants inhabited the location were not an easy foes.

Danse and his team entered the area and soon met by three super mutants. One of them was a suicider. His beeping mini nuke was enough to drive them on edge as the team continued to penetrate deeper into the area. Thankfully, Rhys managed to locate and eliminate the suicider before it blew up.

Their attack on Fort Strong seemed working. They gradually got closer to the armory as they killed more super mutants. Victory was at bay, until…

_“Sir, a behemoth! They got a super mutant behemoth!”_

Everything went downhill from there. As the behemoth threw rubbles at them, Danse once again made a hard decision to fall back and regroup. They managed to get out of that small island and reached the airport. That time, Danse realized that one of his men was not to be seen.

_“Knight-Sergeant Dawes was killed, Sir. He fought a super mutant and defeated by blow of sledgehammer. He died instantly, but I managed to get his holotags.”_

Danse failed once again. Another knight had fallen because of his reckless command and poor leadership. Three knights had sacrificed themselves and left four comrades to complete their mission.

 _“It is not your fault, Sir.”_ Danse remembered Haylen spoke to him. _“You did what you deemed the best for us. You are a good leader, Sir. What happened to the other knights was misfortune, but none of it was your fault.”_

How could it was not his fault? They trusted Danse with their lives and he had let them down.

.

Danse and his team knew about the existence of feral ghouls in Cambridge. They had a brief encounter with those ferals and managed to defeat them all at once. However, the attack happened when Gladius team had a full member. The second attack of feral ghouls made the team suffered lots of damage. The defensive structures they built surrounding the entrance was not enough to block swarm of feral ghouls.

Danse fought side by side with Knight Keane. Both of them defended the police station from outside of perimeter while Rhys and Haylen killed any ghouls that passed their defenses. Even though their ammunition was reducing quickly, Danse believed that they will survive from this attack.

His expectation was soon dropped as Haylen informed him of Knight Rhys’s power armor. She said that the armor was damaged beyond repair and Rhys had to take it back inside to fix it later. To make it worst, Rhys got bitten by one of the ferals and now limping.

_“Should I signal the distress call, Paladin?”_

Danse refused to do it. They still got two knights and a paladin. Two of them were in a good condition of power armor. They got enough fusion cores and cells to defeat these abominations.

Until a pack of ghouls ripped off Knight Keane’s power armor and lashed at the man inside. The knight died quickly from radiation contamination.

Haylen once again called to turn on the distress call. This time, Danse won’t refuse her plea.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration for Batboys as Vaulties 75 came from this wonderful tumblr post: http://plusoneup.tumblr.com/post/134219299765/eric-found-vault-75-in-fallout-4-so-please. It didn't turn out exactly like this but the original idea is brilliant all the same. See you in the next chapter :)


	2. Chapter 2

It was almost dark when Nate arrived at Lexington. The settler from Abernathy Farm requested assistance from the Minutemen to clear out a gang of raiders from the old assembly plant. At first, Nate didn’t worry about the raiders. He had fought raiders before—even with a Deathclaw appeared out of nowhere—and victorious anyway. 

However, the settler somehow missed the detail about what kind of raiders Nate will be dealing with. It turned out that these guys were better than the one Nate encountered in Concord. To make things worse, the gang got every single spot on surveillance, making it difficult for Nate to sneak in. 

Nate was stalking the Corvega assembly plant, contemplating which was the safest way to get in, when his pip boy caught a new radio signal. Since Nate was not a huge fan of classical music and already bored with the old jam of Diamond City Radio, he quickly turned the pip boy to radio menu. The vault dweller was confused when a military frequency popped up.

“There is a military base still working even today?” Nate said to himself as he tuned in to the signal.

_“This is Scribe Haylen of Reconnaissance Squad Gladius to any unit in transmission range. Authorization AF95. Our unit has sustained casualties and we are running low on supplies. We’re requesting support or evac from our position at Cambridge Police Station.”_

The signal turned out to be a call for support, firing from the Cambridge Police Station, south to Corvega. The message repeated itself and Nate began to contemplate his frequent mission. The assembly plant stood untarnished even after years of nuclear annihilation. Most part was still intact, even the huge spherical Corvega’s symbol on the highest roof top. It took a few more step to the front door. However, Nate could not resist his curiosity of the distress call.

After Nate woke up from his two centuries sleep, he never met any military forces. The Minutemen he met at Museum of Freedom was not a military faction. They didn’t have the technology closed to the pre-war military organization.

Who was it then?

Driven with curiosity, Nate decided to head out to the police station. The raiders surely could wait.

.

.

Meanwhile in the police station the feral ghouls kept pouring in, breaching the perimeter. Danse continued to shoot them down one by one. Flashes of red light flew across the air like darts firing to its targets. Danse tried to keep the fight close to the gate and drove the ghouls away from the steps of the police station. Unfortunately, as the sun settling toward west, the number of ghouls was increasing.

The Paladin heard the front door shut and Haylen once again joined the fight. The small scribe was helping Knight Rhys to stand while kept a steady aim at the approaching ferals.

“Have you send the message?” yelled the Paladin without taking his eyes off the battleground. He shot a decaying car, northwest to the perimeter and saw it exploded and killed some ghouls. When he didn’t receive any answer, panic surged through his system. “Haylen?!” He yelled even louder now, worried that his last remaining members were following the path of their fallen comrades.

“I did, Sir!” The young scribe retorted back. “Soon, someone will come and help us. Well… hopefully…”

Hope. That was exactly what they needed. With all these ferals against three of them, the chance of surviving the night was impossible. Unless, out there, someone stumbled upon their frequency and actually marched to the police station.

However, the Paladin won’t expect too much. This was Commonwealth; a brutal city full of raiders, gunners, and abominations alike. No one would come to help. If someone indeed came to the police station, their intention was clearly far from lending the Brotherhood helping hands.

The Paladin was so desperate he even imagining sounds of gunshots and ghouls dying one by one.

But then, a blur of blue came rushing from the left corner. Another shot erupted from the sniper rifle, instantly killing a ghoul. The stranger quickly reload his rifle and killed another.

Danse was taken aback with this stranger’s arrival. Haylen was minutes away from firing the distress signal and here, a savior had arrived. From the way the stranger in vault suit held his weapons, Danse knew that they will survive for another day.

Filled with new hope, Danse resumed to combat position. He continued firing Righteous Authority to its last fusion cell and switched to 10mm handgun. The stranger now stood side by side with him, still carrying his sniper rifle. The speed and precision was astounding, Danse couldn’t help himself to be amazed with the stranger’s exceptional combat skill.

After a few hours, they managed to defend the police station. Every single feral ghoul had been terminated. Danse and the stranger even ventured outside the perimeter just to make sure that every ghoul were dead.

When they got back to the police station, Danse finally able to study the stranger. He was quite young, perhaps a couple of years younger than himself. The stranger wore that blue vault suit with large ‘111’ in bold yellow sewn on his back. On top of the suit, the stranger added an extra protection with chest and arms leather armors. Danse had to look twice to the clunky and odd machinery around the stranger’s left wrist just to make sure it was not going to explode like some mini nuke. Apparently it would not.

“We appreciate the assistance, civilian.” Danse quickly adjusted himself in front of the stranger. He holstered his laser rifle. “But what’s your business here?”

The stranger looked up and squinted his eyes, offended. He then scoffed and waved his hands, gesturing to the carcass of feral ghouls scattered around them. “Pest exterminator.” He joked, “I heard you had a feral problem.”

Danse resisted to roll his eyes. It had been a long and difficult day for him, he didn’t want to make it worst by dealing with smartass stranger who stumbled into their perimeter. Although his unexpected visit surely was needed.

“Evading my question is surefire way of getting yourself ejected from the compound.” said the Paladin. He gave the stranger a hard look, just to emphasized on his treat, that he meant business. Danse just want to make sure that this man didn’t have another agenda on his sleeves. “Are you from the local settlement?”

The Paladin of Brotherhood couldn’t miss the forlorn look on the stranger’s face. For once, Danse thought that the man will avoiding another question. If that happen, Danse must evict the stranger.

“Do all these questions really matter?” Finally, the stranger spoke up. “After all, I helped you fight those ferals.”

He had a point, though. Danse should show more gratitude for the help and now he asked question like the stranger committed crime. But, this was necessary. Danse could say thank you later. “This would be much easier for us if you’d cooperate.” Danse softened his voice, trying to be more understanding. The stranger did help him anyway. “Now, where are you from?”

The stranger huffed. Clearly, Danse’s question had made him uncomfortable, but at this point, the vault dweller couldn’t drop the subject. He rubbed his dark brown hair while avoiding Danse’s intense glare. “…don’t really have home.” He finally said.

Danse knew this scenario; the stranger lost his place from whichever threat given in the Commonwealth. Now, he ventured alone, looking for another place to call home and scavenging junk for mods. Somehow, Danse could see the younger version of himself. Alone without place to stay. Struggling to survive.

“An answer that I hear often.” said the Paladin. He then looked around, carefully assessing the perimeter for another threat. “If I appear to be suspicious, it’s because our mission here has been difficult. Since the moment we arrived in the Commonwealth, we’ve been constantly under fire.” Danse stared down, straight to the man’s bright brown eyes. “If you want to continue pitching in, we could use an extra gun on our side.”

“I want to help, but I don’t like the secrecy.” The man in blue suit said carefully. He knew who he was dealing with. Danse’s team, however outnumbered they were, was powerful. Their weaponry and equipment were the most advance from all the Commonwealth. Getting on their wrong side surely won’t end well. But he still needed to take precaution. “Who are you? Really?”

Danse gazed to Haylen and Rhys back at the police office. Giving away their identities maybe would be dangerous to their mission. However, Danse needed more support right now. Telling the stranger his name won’t hurt anybody anyway.

“Very well. I’m Paladin Danse, Brotherhood of Steel.” said Danse, sternly. “And what’s yours, civilian?”

The stranger holstered his rifle on his back then gave the Paladin a curt smile. “My name’s Nate.”

.

.

They were perfect, Jason had thought. The world was without doubt flawed (and sometimes he wished to be less hurting), but he and Dick were perfect. They understood and took care of each other for years. Their teamwork was seamless.

Until the damned brownies decided to drop yet another kid into their midst.

The third generation seemed to be bred for more brain than brute; Jason concluded the second he met Timothy Drake, the star student and ‘graduate’ of the generation. The child had been tiny and fragile-looking—and had Dick cooing the moment he saw him—but to Jason he was creepy as hell. Not only did the babybird know how to compromise the vault’s entire security cameras in a matter of seconds, he also knew his and Dick’s full names down to their middle ones, knew their exact ages down to the hour, and their preferred weapons and fighting styles down to the ridiculous names Dick came up for them (“Flying Bird Somersault! Little Wing Kick!” “Just kill me already.”)

Then, as if the smartpants babybird wasn’t creepy enough, yet another kid joined them in a mere span of ten years. Conner Kent was super strong; the adjective wasn’t even an exaggeration. He could lift weights using their bunk beds—on a good day, he would even ask Jason and Dick to sit on them. His fighting techniques were as refined as a loose cannon, yet remained as deadly. Jason and Dick had to swallow their pride and ask the kid to adjust his strength after sporting cracked ribs and broken humerus during a casual sparring.

At the rate they were going, Jason wasn’t even surprised if there would be a fifth member before the next decade rolled about.

“I doubt that,” Tim casually rebuked, pulling a file from his self-fashioned wrist computer and flashed it to his brothers during one of their dinner get-together.

“Kon’s generation is supposed to be the last batch, and even he cannot achieve full S.P.E.C.I.A.L perks the Court hopes.”

The Court of Owls. They also learned about it over time, mostly to Tim’s credit. The all-powerful society that ruled the world from the shadows, even before the great war. And they sought to do so even after the war, if their project of cloning and breeding perfect soldiers were any indication. The children were the Court’s soldiers, the Talons, though none of them were perfect. Yet.

“They took the perfected DNA code for Charisma and Agility from Dick. Strength and Endurance from Jason. Intelligence and Perception from me. Luck from Kon. This boy, Damian Wayne, is not going to need a generation. He will be the perfect soldier—no, commander.

“If they can find a way to wake him up.”

Wayne. Even without Tim hacking into the vault registry, they knew that the boy had ties with Bruce Wayne and Thomas Wayne, two of the highest ranking officials in vault 75, the latter being the Grandmaster himself. The boy was frozen instead of cloned like the rest of them, for reasons yet unknown (“Maybe he was too much a brat they didn’t want to multiply him?’ “Jason!”). And apparently, he wasn’t the only one.

Her name was Barbara Gordon. She was encased in the same type of cryogenic pod as Damian, but as far as Tim hacked, she wasn’t enhanced or otherwise experimented on like Damian did. Her ‘project’ was all blank except for one word: ‘Oracle’.

It was Dick’s idea at first to free them—who else could it have been, with something as nobly suicidal as this?—but the others were quick to jump onboard. Tim did tell them of a failed rebellion in the past, but history was there to learn from, right? Now _that_ was _his_ idea. Technical aspects, including circumventing the obedience serum the Court pumped them full on a daily basis, would be left to Tim.

One acrobatic assassin, one trigger happy weapon master, one hacker extraordinaire and one super strong loose cannon. Trained to kill and designed to bring down entire organizations. The Court wouldn’t know what hit them.

.

.

That bastard who kidnapped Nate’s son was dead.

The sole survivor of vault 111 looked down in disgust. He resisted to keep shooting at the man’s ugly face. However, this man—Kellogg—surely was a tough opponent. He got skills and equipment to almost defeated Nate and his companion. Fortunately, Nate brought enough supplies of ammunition and stimpaks to deliver the last blow.

“Nick,” called the vault dweller to his companion; a synth detective named Nick Valentine who dressed like a character of noir movie. “Did you find anything in his terminal?”

“Nothing,” answered the detective. His skeletal fingers roamed on the keyboard, typing codes after codes to unlock any information in the terminal. “The Institute is indeed protective of their facts. Not even a single clue of their whereabouts is in this terminal.”

Institute. Ever since Nate woke up and met the new Boston, every single person he met had talked about the Institute. The Boogeyman of Commonwealth they said. No one knew where they are or even they indeed exist. No one in the wasteland ever met anyone from the Institute. The only evidence of Institute’s existence was synths.

A human-like creature created by the Institute. They managed to improve the first generation of synth which looked artificial with metal skeletons and polycarbonate casings. Lately, another type of synth has emerged. People called them the third gen synth which looked exactly like a human being. No one can tell apart between real human or a synth these days. And that’s what freaked people out.

 _“They kidnapped real persons and replaced them with synth doubles!”_ was the story told by Piper a week ago at Diamond City. The black haired reporter looked so furious when the Mayor of Diamond City didn’t want her to run investigation about synth in his city. It will tarnish the city’s reputation, said the Mayor.

Nate heard so many bad things about the Institute and hopped that this secret society won’t have anything to do with his missing son. He couldn’t imagine what kind of malice they have done to his poor child. He had hopped for anything—let it be the Gunners or raiders or that crazy sect called Children of Atom—but not Institute.

Unfortunately, fate had brought him to the Fort Strong and Kellogg and… Institute.

Nate studied the man under his boots. He was no longer breathing after a straight shot between his eyes. The man was important to Institute. There must be a clue that will lead them to Institute and eventually, Shaun. The vault dweller knelt, hovering above the corpse. He examined the body carefully, searching every pockets and found nothing.

But Nate found a strange device around Kellogg’s right ear. Curiously, Nate followed the wire of the device and discovered that it ended into the man’s brain. Nate quickly grabbed his pocket knife and carefully took out the wire and device out of Kellogg’s brain.

“I think I found something.” said the dweller of vault 111. He showed the machine to Nick. “Do you know what is this?”

The synth detective took it from Nate’s hand and payed a closer look. “This is interesting…” He said, “I never saw anything like this before. Where did you find it?”

“Around his ear and inside his head. That gooey particle dangling on the wire is part of his brain.”

The detective stepped back a little when he saw the ugly piece of brain attached to the machine. “Oh, hell, Nate… how can you take something like that with a blank face…” Nick Valentine studied the machine for a while and decided to have a closer examination. He took the device from Nate’s hand. “I never seen anything like this before and nothing is mentioned in the terminal. Maybe this is our only lead to get inside the Institute.”

“Anything, Nick…” The sole survivor whispered, forlornly. “Anything to find my son…”

Valentine sighed. He patted Nate with his metal hand and said, “Let’s get out of this place. He started to smell.”

Nate smiled and nodded. He had enough with this place, Kellogg, and the lies of Institute. A quiet time in Sanctuary or Diamond City or that new settlement he’s been building would be nice. At least Nate could rest this growing headache before barged into the Institute.

They managed to fire up the elevator and climbed up to the rooftop of Fort Strong. With Valentine’s hacking skill, the security door finally opened. It was already dark outside and the sky was clear. Nate was admiring the view when a huge airship came.

The ship—or rather a blimp, like the old helium fueled ride Nate saw before the war—flew high above the sky. The metal ship was escorted with vertibirds, the one Nate saw at Museum of Freedom. It brought old memories during the war, when Nate and his troops got full air support from those vertibirds. It was good to see the old aircrafts still kicking and flying around after the nuclear.

Nate was too caught up in the moment when a booming voice called out in the night. _“People of the Commonwealth, do not interfere. Our intentions are peaceful.”_ There was small pause and then it continued. _“We are the Brotherhood of Steel.”_

 _Brotherhood of Steel._ That was Danse’s group, if Nate remembered correctly. So, this was what Danse meant when he mentioned about backups.

“Flying that ship into the heart of the Commonwealth…” Nate spun around and realized that Valentine hadn’t moved from his spot too. His yellow eyes followed the movement of Brotherhood’s airship. However, Nate didn’t see amazement in those blazing eyes. Instead, there was worries and fright. “Mark my words, the Brotherhood’s here to start a war.”

Nate looked up once more. The airship was up there, moving slowly to its destination wherever it was. Undeniably, the ship looked combat ready. With all those vertibirds and machine guns installed on each birds, the Brotherhood could defeat anyone in the Commonwealth, humans or mutants alike. The way them entering Commonwealth with heavy guns and armies won’t mean peace.

The pip-boy on Nate’s wrist gave a small squeak, indicating that a new radio signal was caught. Nate quickly tuned in the radio and found out that the same signal of Cambridge Police Station was now in range. Weird, because Nate and Valentine were not in Cambridge or Lexington yet. Could that be Haylen managed to install the deep range transmitter.

“Um, Nick. I think I should—“

“You want to follow that aircraft?” said the detective, even before Nate finished his line. The vault dweller nodded. “They mean trouble, Nate. Don’t get yourself involve into their matters. You have to find your son, remember?”

“I do, Nick. I do. But, they have the power I need.” Nate rubbed against his dark brown hair before continued. “If Shaun actually inside the Institute, we need more power and information to get inside. I met their guys, Nick, at Cambridge. They surely have the equipment and knowledge to get me inside.”

Nick Valentine sighed. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes in his coat. “Do what you must.” He said, “When you’re done, go and see me at my office. I’ll try to gain more information about Institute, Kellogg, and your son. Maybe I will pay Piper another visit. She can be annoying and nosey, but she knows how to get a good intel.”

“Thank you.” Nate smiled, “It won’t take long, I promise.”

.

.

Tim ran his mental list once again as he disabled the last alarm. The easiest parts were done; from now on, any smallest miscalculation or misstep could very well result in death. Or worse.

Rising up, he turned and faced Conner. The younger-yet-bigger best friend of his was visibly jittery, though still attempting a weak smile at him. He returned it as casual as he could before raising his hand and tapping a small communicator logged in his ear. One of his masterpieces.

“Phase one is done. Will be heading to the main computer room for phase two.”

Tim waited anxiously for a seemingly forever three full seconds until Dick’s voice filled his ear, loud and clear.

“ _Understood. We will also proceed as planned. Keep us updated, babybird. We’re counting on you._ ”

The line ended. Tim took a deep breath, glanced at Conner, and nodded. Together they burst out of the door into the corridor.

And met the first lookout guards barely a hundred meters from their starting point.

Tim made sure to stay a step behind Conner, gripping his electrified staff for backup. Not that he needed it anyway, with the way Conner made short work of them. They were a couple of corridors away from main computer room when a screeching sound blared. Conner howled and fell to his knees, hands clutching the sides of his head. Tim, whose ears weren’t nearly as enhanced, stayed up and gripped his staff tighter, eyes narrowing at the new attackers.

The trainers. Four in total, one of them carrying a device emitting the sound that incapacitated Conner, the rest wielding shotguns he suspected full of tranquilizers.

 _Like handling rogue animals_ , Tim thought, smiling bitterly. No matter what they did, the children were always considered as nothing more than inhumane assets. Monsters on a leash.

“Superboy, Robin, stand down. It’s an order. You will drop your weapons and leave for the lab. Or you will punished on the spot.”

One of them raised a remote, thumb threateningly hovering over the switch.     

Tim smirked. _Not anymore_.

His first birdarang (courtesy to Dick and his naming sense) hit the trainer with the sounding device right through the hand. Tim leaped, smacked one trainer and shocked the other before bringing the staff down and crushed the fallen device, stopping the screech. He turned around for the last trainer but unfortunately wasn’t fast enough; the butt of the gun was slammed into his back. He fell like a potato sack, hissing as a boot was pressed to his back right at the sore spot, pinning him painfully to the ground.

“Bad move, kids. I guess you prefer punishment on the spot, then.”

From the corner of his eye, Tim observed the trainer grinning, lifting his remote and pressed down gleefully. He watched the grin fell into confusion as nothing happened. It was the boy’s turn to smirk.

_Bad move, gentlemen. That obedience serum has been countered by yours truly. That little switch won’t be torturing us for at least another couple of hours._

His smirk didn’t falter even as the trainer roared in frustration and pressed the gun’s barrel to his neck. Oh, yet another bad move in a span of seconds.

Conner’s heart-jumping battle cry was definitely one of his favourite sounds now. Right next to the satisfying crunch of a well-deserved punch at the trainer’s face. With the weight and gun barrel off him, Tim got up, fumbling for his staff. By the time he found his weapon and leaped to his feet, Conner was grinning and offering his hand, with the trainers sprawling around him in unnatural body positions.

They made it to the main computer room, and a growl from Conner was more than enough to send the resident scientists scramble for their lives. Tim couldn’t help an amused smile as he walked to the biggest console. He typed his commands as fast as he could, not even slowing down when his communicator beeped.

_“How is it going, Timmy?”_

“Stopping the alarm, done. Putting trainers’ quarters and the labs on lockdown, done. Flooding them with knockout gas, done. Now onto the map leading to the main court... sent your way. I’d recommend air vents instead of good old doors, providing Jason can still fit in them.”

_“Why you little—”_

“ _Easy, Jay. Alright, that’s our cue. Wish us luck, Tim.”_

Tim nodded, then remembered that his brothers couldn’t see the gesture.

“Don’t die, you two.”

The answer was a pleasant laugh and Tim couldn’t help but smile a little. He went back to the console and opened several more panels. Now, onto taking over the entire vault system. Sounds overkill, but he figured Dick and Jason would need every help they could get if they want to succeed on their near-impossible mission.

Killing the Grandmaster.

He was a couple of commands away into gaining full control of the entire electronic system in the vault when a loud explosion rocked the room. Tim fell forward, communicator knocked out. His head whipped around, eyes widened when he saw Conner lying on the ground in the midst of broken tables and chairs and other things he used to barricade the door.

“Kon!”

Ears buzzing and barely thinking, Tim left the console and ran for his best friend. He felt around frantically and breathed in relief when he felt a pulse and heard a shaky breath. The relief was short-lived though, as soon as he lifted his head and registered figures climbing over what was left of the door and into the room. Five guards and two trainers, the ones lucky enough to be outside their quarters when Tim initiated lockdown. All of them were holding shotguns, no remotes in sight. They adapted fast.

Tim’s hand was barely moving to get his birdarangs when a bullet shot right through his arm. He screamed, in both pain and shock.

“Don’t even think about it. Or else, the next one will be a headshot.” The frontmost guard hissed, levelling his still-smoking gun. “I don’t care how valuable specimens you are. I’m sure the smarty-ass division will find a way to make use of you even with a bullet in your head.”

Tim bit his lip, struggling to stay focused even as his arm was steadily streaming red. This situation didn’t look good. First explosion, now live bullets? They adapted too fast.

“Hey, where’re the other two? The older ones?”

“No idea. These blasted kids removed their bio-trackers. Try finding it out through these little freaks.”

One of the trainers stepped forward, cocking his gun and pointed it at Tim.

“Okay... Robin. You will tell us where Nightwing and Red Hood are, and what they’re up to.”

Tim took a glance at the wall clock, and forced his lips to curl in a smirk. He stared up at the trainer.

“Too late. They’ve finished their mission.”

A bluff. He had no way of knowing for sure if his older brothers succeeded on cutting of the head of the spider. But at least he knew that his little stunt here would buy them more time. At least he would have died for a cause.

The trainer’s eyes narrowed for a moment before switching to carefully blank.

“And we thought you are the smart one, Robin.”

The gun went off, and Tim was lying on the ground before he knew it. Oddly, he didn’t feel the hot, searing pain like before. Rather, he felt a familiar weight and shudder and shaky breath...

“...Kon! Oh God, why did you—”

Conner groaned against him, the shoulder that took the bullet meant for him was steadily leaking red. Even with enhanced strength and body, a bullet that close would still do considerable damage. Tim tried to push him away but found himself couldn’t; either he was still weak from shock or Conner was hell bent on becoming his meat shield.

He would personally lecture Kon into oblivion if the latter was the case.

“So cute. Two birds with one stone. Hey, alert whoever’s left in the science division that we’re going to deliver two—”

Tim never knew the creative name the guard came up for them as sickening crunch was heard, followed by shouts and several gunshots. Gunshots _away_ from them.

Curious, Tim craned his head to peek around Conner’s shoulder to see the commotion.

“What the hell—“

“Aaargh, my arms!”

“Are you out of your mind, Clark?!”

Tim’s eyes widened. Clark Kent. The biggest man in the facility and also the kindest one. The doctor who countless of times stitched Dick’s bloody gashes, fished out bullets from Jason’s body, and nursed Tim back to health after pulling near-fatal four all-nighters in front of a computer. A man whose son was cloned into their Conner Kent. A man who was facing seven—now down to three—other armed men for their sake.

“Kon, take Tim and go! I got this!”

As if suddenly receiving a shot of adrenaline, Conner forced his body off the ground and brought Tim up with him. Tim yelped as he felt himself lifted by his knees and swung over Conner’s shoulder. It was then that he saw the only remaining guards pointing his gun to Conner’s back.

“Kon, look out!“

Tim knew it was too late; Conner couldn’t have moved faster than a speeding bullet. And yet, in a split of second Clark tackled the guard, sending the bullet into a computer screen instead. The doctor looked up and met his eyes, smiling that warm smile that made him so handsome even with rotten brown skin, and mouthing.

“Go. Be free.”

A gunfire, a shout, a red upon white cloak, a fleeting smile. And a scream Tim wasn’t sure was his or Conner’s as Clark Kent’s body hit the floor.

.

.

Months has passed since Nate awoken from his deep slumber. Since then, Nate never looked back to the vault 111. He couldn’t handle the dreadful cold, the dead silence of metal tomb, and—most importantly—faced his lifeless wife again.

Ever since Nate left vault 111, he never took off his engagement ring, nor he ever discarded Nora’s. He kept his deceased wife’s wedding ring in his pocket and brought it with him everywhere. It was the only thing to remind Nate about the good old days, except Codsworth. Not even Sanctuary Hills, his old neighborhood was enough to console his sadness. Instead, the dry vegetation, stale aroma of furniture, and collapsing roof intensified his wretchedness. Sanctuary reminded him of the old life Nate couldn’t have anymore, that he already lost so many due to the Great War.

However, Nate still acknowledged Sanctuary Hills as his home base. He couldn’t leave permanently and eventually Sanctuary Hills was the place to rest.

Fortunately, since his encounter with the remnant of Minutemen, Nate was given the capability to rebuild settlements throughout the Commonwealth. Therefore, after escorting Preston Garvey and his men to Sanctuary Hills, Nate quickly built his own sanctuary at Red Rocket Truck Stop, a few meters away from Sanctuary Hills. This way, Nate could keep his old and new lives side by side, reminding him of who he was and his goals.

Right now, the main purpose of Nate’s adventure was to find Institute and Shaun. And even after he found the way in, Nate just couldn’t do it. Instead, he continued serving with the Brotherhood of Steel and sometimes helping settlements.

“Don’t you need to find your son, soldier?”

Nate rolled his eyes. He’d been dealing with Valentine, Piper, and even MacCready pestering him to continue searching for his lost son. He already knew how to get in, so everything should be okay. The only problem was Nate must speak with a runaway Institute scientist named Virgil and resided somewhere in the Glowing Sea.

Glowing Sea. The ground zero where the nuclear bomb was fell two hundred years ago. It was heavy radiated and filled with ferocious wild animals from glowing mole rats to deathclaws. The radiation was so bad, it could have infected and killed the strongest human being in a minute. Nate couldn’t imagine any sane person who willingly took resident in the heart of Glowing Sea like this Virgil. Sure, Glowing Sea was a perfect hideout, however, Virgil must have been dead due to harsh environment.

But Nate never went to find him. He was too scared.

Too scared that the little boy he knew had changed. Too scared that Shaun won’t recognize Nate as his father. Too scared that, maybe, Shaun was dead, killed by the Institute and one of their sick experiments. Nate afraid of so many things it hindered him to move forward.

And now, Paladin Danse, the only person who haven’t said anything about finding Shaun, started to join the rest of Nate’s friends. Maybe it was a mistake bringing the stoic Paladin to Red Rocket where other Nate’s friends constantly hangout…

“After this one, I’ll resume my search.” Nate said. His eyes were glued to the road. His trusted sniper rifle was ready in his hands.

The truth is, Nate didn’t even know where are they going. Last time he remembered, they had passed Covenant and went straight to the east, close to the Malden Middle School. Nate got an interesting information from one of Diamond City guard about a haunted place called Museum of Witchcraft. The guard didn’t give any detail except the museum has taken casualties without no one know what was actually going on there.

“Nate, I heard from the synth that you got a new lead in Glowing Sea.” It seemed that Paladin Danse won’t leave the subject. His heavy steps slowly caught up on Nate’s faster strides. “The information on getting into the Institute is crucial and vital, both for you and Brotherhood. We can finish the war on synth at once, as well as finding your son.”

“Danse, I really don’t want to talk about it right now…” the vault dweller muttered, tiredly. He forced a smile, just to calm the Paladin. “I just recently defrosted and found out that the world I knew was no longer existed. Two months ago, I just figured out that the infant boy I knew was a ten years old. I even killed the man who kidnapped my son and murdered my wife less than a month ago. The thing is… I need a break, Danse. I just need some time to gather my strength and… and prepare for the worst.”

There, Nate just said it. All his worries and fear were now out in the open air. Maybe the next thing Nate should do was collapsing on his knees and sobbing like a kid who lost his toy. That depended on how Danse reacted.

And somehow, Danse did say or do anything.

Nate frowned. He knew that his confession was pretty shocking and sudden, but that didn’t justify Danse lack of reaction. Maybe the Paladin now thought Nate as a coward?

“Danse, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—“

“Be quiet, soldier.” Now, the Paladin looked completely tensed. He even tightened his grip around the laser rifle, as if he ready to combat. But… battling who? “And don’t move.”

“What are you—“

“Deathclaw.” Danse whispered. His voice was stern and alert. “A big one. Right behind you.”

And then, Nate heard it. A long, loud, thunderous roar of Deathclaw. From the sound of it, the creature was close. _Too close._

.

.


End file.
